On Va’etchanan: Do Not Murder, Rather Love by Ivy Helman

29662350_10155723099993089_8391051315166448776_oVa’etchanan (Deuteronomy 3:23-7:11) gives us pause for thought in its contradictions.  First, the parshah (Torah portion) contains the aseret hadibrot (Ten Commandments), among which is:  you shouldn’t murder (5:17). Then, pasukim (verses) 6:4-5 contain the shema (Hear O Israel! The L-rd is Our G-d.  The L-rd is One!) followed by the admonishment to: “love the L-rd, your G-d, with all your heart and with all your soul, and with all your might,” (Deut. 6:4-5).  Finally, pasuk 7:2 instructs the Isrealites, upon entry into the Promised Land, to kill and “utterly destroy” the various groups of people living there.   

In other words, one is supposed to not murder.  One is reminded to love G-d.  And, then, G-d commands the Israelites to commit mass murder. I can’t help but think about the mass murders in the United States. Continue reading “On Va’etchanan: Do Not Murder, Rather Love by Ivy Helman”

Mid –Summer Musings: Lady in Waiting by Sara Wright

Yesterday at the Mid-Summer Turning I took a woodland walk in warm summer rain and then spent a quiet day at home. I visited with a few tadpoles and green frogs that inhabit my vernal pool, sat on the bridge and listened to the flow of water over stone at a woodland waterfall, a place so dear to my heart. I also spent quiet time reflecting…

For too long I have been a woman in waiting… waiting for diagnoses for myself and my dog, waiting for direction – I need to make a decision about where I am supposed to live – waiting for intuitive nudges, waiting for calls from loved ones that don’t come, waiting for this dark cloud to lift, praying for the power of the spirit and body of the earth to fill this empty vessel that has become who I am. Continue reading “Mid –Summer Musings: Lady in Waiting by Sara Wright”

Dancing at Lughnasa by Mary Sharratt

Summer passes all too swiftly. Just yesterday it was spring and the woods were full of bluebells and the hedges frothy with hawthorn. Then, only a few days ago, I noticed that the heather is already blooming. Rowan berries hang heavy and ripe on the trees. The hedges are abundant with hazelnuts. After the endless golden days of midsummer, the nights are drawing in again. And despite warm summer temperatures, my Welsh mare is already growing her winter coat. Continue reading “Dancing at Lughnasa by Mary Sharratt”

My Mystery School Experience–Facing Life Part II by Janet Maika’i Rudolph

This post builds on Facing Life Part I.

I love the concept of ancient mystery schools. I found a modern one in Maine in 1997. The mystery school experience allowed me to delve into life’s meanings and magic in a very visceral and personal way. In my youth, I had intensely studied and adored Greek myths. Through the activities of the school, I got to live the myths. I became my own hero. I got to do the work on transforming painful aspects of my life into my own personal wisdom teachings.

Fundamentally, mystery schools teach the lessons of Mama Nature in a very intimate and vital manner. Mother Nature, Herself, provides the original and powerful mystery teachings. These include lessons of spirit, creation, life/death/rebirth, oneness, and harmony. They also include fear, longing, love and blessing. Continue reading “My Mystery School Experience–Facing Life Part II by Janet Maika’i Rudolph”

Soulful Art in New York City by Judith Shaw

judith shaw photoThough temperatures outside were sizzling during the July heatwave in New York, I was cool inside the Frick Museum. Nearing the end of my visit I was standing by a rope that blocked entry to a curved stone staircase – I looked to my right, a stunning Renoir; I looked to my left, a resplendent Vermeer. Each expresses the essence, the sublime – one with misty intensity – the other with focused clarity. 

Continue reading “Soulful Art in New York City by Judith Shaw”

We Are Not Alone: Embodying and Re-enacting Ancient Wisdom by Carol P. Christ

A few nights ago, on the way to dinner, two friends and I passed by a small church near the old fortress in Ierapetra, Crete. The liturgy was broadcast via microphone and a crowd of people gathered outside the church. “Must be some kind of name day,” one of my friends commented, but I could not think of a saint celebrated on August 1.

We decided to light candles and make our prayers. I asked one of the Greek women the reason for the ceremony. “This is the first night of our celebrations for the Panagia,” she responded, referring to the Assumption of Mary that would occur on August 15. I looked around and saw that indeed many of the women were wearing black. “Of course,” I thought to myself. Continue reading “We Are Not Alone: Embodying and Re-enacting Ancient Wisdom by Carol P. Christ”

Eye of Newt, a Binding Spell by Barbara Ardinger

I first wrote this spell in 1994 when a certain Member of Congress from Marietta, Georgia, took out his Contract On America. I sent the spell out on the internet and know that it was used. I rewrote it to put in my book, Finding New Goddesses, but decided that it’s much too serious a spell to put in a book of humor, so the spell stands alone again. I have used it successfully, though carefully, on several occasions, and so have other people. The purpose of this spell is to bind, not to do harm. It’s neither “black magic” nor “white magic,” but simply useful magic.

Now, in mid-2019, I’m giving serious consideration to renaming the spell: Eye of Donald. But no—if I did that, we’d lose the reference to Macbeth, Act IV, scene 1. If you’ve read or seen “The Scottish Play,” you know that Macbeth is, among other things, filled with hubris. So was the fellow from Georgia, and he’s since fallen on the sword of his hubris. The current occupant of the White House? I think he’s hubris personified. So we need the reference to Macbeth. Continue reading “Eye of Newt, a Binding Spell by Barbara Ardinger”

A Dream of Death and the Light Beyond Light: Remembering Ñacuñán by Laura Shannon

In my final year of college, my B.A. in Intercultural Studies required me to take a daily accelerated Spanish class. Thus I met Ñacuñán Sáez, the dazzlingly urbane young professor from Argentina who had recently come via Italy and Oxford to our tiny liberal arts college in western Massachusetts. Ñacuñan spoke four languages, adored Maria Callas, and showed up at his first faculty dinner party amongst the snowshoes, mufflers and plaid lumberjack coats of the Berkshire Mountains sporting a white dinner jacket and carrying a bottle of Campari.

Ñacuñán Sáez

Ñacuñán taught with theatricality and flair, keeping us students awake and interested, even at the ungodly hour of 8.30 am each day. The sample sentences he concocted as grammar exercises were gems of Latin American magical realism, provoking laughter as well as thoughtful discussion about different beliefs, realities and worlds.

Continue reading “A Dream of Death and the Light Beyond Light: Remembering Ñacuñán by Laura Shannon”

Don’t Think About That – a poem of motherhood in this wounded world by Trelawney Grenfell-Muir

Get the kids out the door to swim
Sunscreen, lots of sunscreen
Summer’s worse every damned year
Deadly heat waves are killing people as our civilization begins to crumble

Don’t think about that, gotta remember to fill water bottles
Pack a snack
Settle the dogs in their crates
Cages like those refugee children who keep dying in concentration camps

Don’t think about that, gotta get everyone herded into the car

Continue reading “Don’t Think About That – a poem of motherhood in this wounded world by Trelawney Grenfell-Muir”

 Fish Tails: A Grandmother’s Legacy by Sara Wright

When the two year old pulled the silvery gold fish out of the pond to the cheers of her five and seven year old siblings, parents, and grandmother, I shuddered involuntarily.

The young perch impaled by sharp hook was gasping for oxygen as the adults allowed the fish to hang helplessly while pictures were taken. Afterwards the group watched the fish flounder, still gasping, on the bottom of the boat. The toddler was applauded for her catch, while the terrified fish flipped over and over attempting to escape back into the water. It takes a while for a beached fish to die a death of asphyxiation. Continue reading ” Fish Tails: A Grandmother’s Legacy by Sara Wright”